


Out of the Water

by doctor__idiot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 10x13 "Soul Survivor", Chick-Flick Moments, Episode Related, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, I'm really not sure, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:10:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3499652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set right after the events of 10x03 "Soul Survivor". It was about time Sam and Dean talked to each other. So I made them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Water

**Author's Note:**

> I started this right after the episode aired but because of my tendency to not finish the projects I start this has been lying unfinished for awhile and I only now got around to it. Hope you still enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Only the idea is mine. Unbeta'd.

Dean startled out of a fitful sleep. Disoriented and sluggish, his eyes blinking rapidly, he tried to locate the cause of the interruption.

He had one hand shoved under the pillow for his flip-knife when the door opened slowly, the strip of light from the hallway growing wider.

“Dean? You awake?”

He allowed himself to relax because there wasn’t an imminent threat and he let go of the knife, but then his shoulders stayed tense with anticipation of what Sam could want at this time of day, or rather, night.

“Yeah,” he replied hoarsely, voice rough with sleep and so much else. He flicked on the nightstand lamp, squinting against the light. “Somethin’ wrong?”

_Oh, where to begin?_

Sam didn’t respond, which was disconcerting in itself, and Dean’s body was frozen so rigid his back started aching. He made himself sit up and scoot back on the mattress, silently inviting Sam to join him.

To his astonishment, Sam did.

Now that his brother was closer, Dean noticed the faint smell of whiskey and when he breathed in he could taste it on his tongue. Sam appeared to be mostly sober, though.

When Sam spoke the words were slow but devoid of any slurring. “I wanted to apologize.”

Dean was so surprised he laughed. It sounded strained even to his own ears but still. Something flashed across Sam’s face that was gone again in an instant and even though Dean wasn’t able to pin it down, he knew he didn’t like it.

“What for? Shit, Sam, I should be the one apologizing.” He swallowed heavily. He wanted to say so much more but the words got stuck in his dry throat.

_I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am. Please punish me._

_Please don’t leave me._

Sam went on as if Dean hadn’t said anything. “I didn’t handle that too well earlier.”

“You brought me food. Did I say thanks for that?” Dean didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to behave. He felt awkward and uncomfortable in his own skin, which he had hardly ever felt like around Sam and it was messing with his head.

“Yeah, and then I left you alone and got drunk. Sent Cas because I was being a pussy.”

Despite himself, a snort worked itself free. Dean immediately pressed his hand to his mouth when he saw the look on Sam’s face.  
Okay, maybe his brother wasn’t all that sober after all. Thank fuck. Some things you just didn’t do sober. He sure as hell wished he wasn’t.

“Well, he did give me a pep-talk that was sorta helpful.”

“Yeah? What’d he say?”

Dean shoved his pillow back and settled against the headboard, drawing his legs in. He tried not to think of how, if Sam scooted further onto the bed and turned just a little, he could comfortably lean against Dean’s legs. 

Suddenly Dean craved the touch and the warmth it would bring so much it became hard to breathe.

Sam kept looking at him and if he had noticed anything he didn’t let it on.

Dean managed to pick the conversational thread back up. “Uh, a vacation. He suggested I should go somewhere for a few days, clear my head. At least that’s what I think he meant. Said I should ‘allow myself to heal’.” 

Sam was nodding before Dean had even finished speaking. “Yeah, that could be good. You should… That might be good.”

Dean’s stomach dropped and when bitter gall shot up in his throat he had to swallow the burning liquid down to say, “If you need space, just say so. Don’t be a dick about it.”

Sam’s gaze shot up, bewildered. “No, that’s not… That’s not what I meant.” 

His tone was odd and he rubbed his hands together in a way that radiated insecurity like nothing else and Dean couldn’t help himself.

“We both could use some time off,” he said, and then, to add insult to injury, added, “We’ve been through … some stuff, so.”

Leaving the Life, with a capital letter, had never been a desire of his. It wasn’t like it never sucked but he saw the responsibility he had, the obligation, the duty. Not only to Sam and Cas but to every damn person on this literally godforsaken planet. 

He didn’t fully understand why he felt like it was his job to save every single human being but he did. Rationally, he knew he couldn’t possibly do that but he would be damned if he didn’t try.

Now, for the first time in his life, he might be ready to give up. Not roll over and die but drop everything and walk away from it. He had no idea how he should feel about that.

His brother looked at him with so much weariness in his eyes, so much age. God, he looked so old, it squeezed Dean’s heart. 

When Sam finally looked away, he sighed, ran his left hand through his hair only to have it fall right back into his face.

Dean clenched his hands at his side to stop himself from reaching out and tucking it behind Sam’s ear.

Abruptly, Sam’s demeanor changed. He sat up straighter but there was exhaustion in his shoulders. “Anyway, I should let you get some rest.” 

He made to get up and Dean didn’t think. Right there, his hand shot out and barely brushed Sam’s forearm before they both startled at the touch and he drew his fingers back. Still hovering in the vicinity of Sam as if he wanted to preserve the ability to touch his brother again. 

He didn’t know whether he should.

The moment was already spiraling out of control anyway so Dean didn’t hesitate when he pleaded, “Stay. Please, I’m sorry, I want to explain, I —” 

He cut himself off. There were so many things he wanted to say, they were a giant jumbled mess and it was the middle of the fucking night and he just couldn’t make sense of any of it.

Sam didn’t look like he was going to be of much help. He looked mostly just worn-out, physically and mentally. Tears pricked at Dean’s eyes all of a sudden, without warning, and he was more than tempted to simply let them spill. 

He flinched when Sam’s finger nudged his jaw but it was more out of surprise than anything else. Sam didn’t draw back, wasn’t a coward. He let his finger linger for a bit until Dean looked him in the eyes. 

Dean wanted to keep denying eye contact just to keep the physical one.

“Dean, listen, you don’t have to explain. I’m not mad. Not really. I don’t know whether you meant what you said and did when you were a demon or not,” Sam dragged in an unsteady breath and Dean caught himself doing the same, subconsciously synchronizing their breathing, “All I know is that I can’t do this again.”

“I didn’t mean any of it,” Dean hurried to say but he could have been talking to a wall for all the reaction he got.

_It wasn’t me. Please, you can’t believe what he said._

_Okay, that part about Dad, maybe there's some sort of truth to it. But Mom could never be your fault._

_I could never resent you like that. I’m nothing without you._

“Can’t do what again, Sammy?”

He used the nicknames without thinking. It slipped like it always did, tasting somewhat stale on his tongue, and he instantly cursed himself when Sam winced.

A calming breath before Sam continued. “The not-talking, the distance. I won’t ever be okay with what Gadreel did but I forgave you. I just fucking hate that it took you dying. Again.”

There was no humor in the last word even though it was borderline hilarious. They had both died so many times, one would assume they were used to it. Just another bump in the road.

Dean muttered, “Yeah, again.”

Sam turned to him quickly and unexpectedly. His hand landed on the part of Dean that was closest, his left thigh. 

Dean managed not to jump at the touch but he couldn’t stop a little whimper from escaping. He hadn’t truly realized how much he had _missed_ Sam and it was all he could do not to throw himself into his brother’s arms.

Predictably, Sam misinterpreted and snatched his hand back. Dean could barely bite down on some more desperate, nonsensical sounds. It was pathetic, really.

Sam said, “It took me forever to find you and when I did and I saw that security tape… I thought I was going crazy.” He breathed in and it sounded wet. “Back then I thought you were just possessed. Turned out to be so much worse. And Crowley? _Really?_ ”

Dean was almost positive Sam was rambling. Talking to talk, not to receive a response. For the life of him, he wouldn’t have known what to say anyway.

Sam’s words floated into the background when Dean looked at him, really looked, and noticed that his brother was beautiful. 

It wasn’t revolutionary, he had noticed that before. But there was something about the moment, them sitting there in the middle of the night, both drained and tired, that amplified it.

Sam wasn’t angry but he was far from carefree. He was sleep-deprived and broken and still so fierce Dean couldn’t breathe for all of five seconds.

Strong. Solid.

Dean’s fingernails were biting into his palm with the effort not to reach out and pull Sam in. Hold or be held, it didn’t make a damn difference to him as long as he wouldn’t be able to tell where he ended and Sam began.

The question was out of his mouth before he could stop or reconsider it: “Can I touch you?”

“What?” Sam stopped dead in his sentence. Dean hadn’t even tried to listen, words all running together in his head. “What kinda question is that?”

_A stupid one._

Dean wisely kept his mouth shut, no telling what else would come out of it. 

Maybe Sam saw something in his eyes. The fuckers usually betrayed him. Either way, Sam drew his sweatpants-clad legs up on the bed and crawled closer, leaning right against Dean’s legs, arm coming around Dean’s drawn-up knees.

“Better?”

Dean could only blink and nod. His skin was tingling where Sam was pressed against him although there was no actual skin-to-skin contact and he didn’t know what to do with that. It was like his whole body had tuned in to Sam for the first time in a very long time and it was overwhelming how novel it felt.

It was strange, receiving comfort from Sam. It wasn’t usually like this and Dean was taken aback by how good and right it felt. Judging by Sam’s demeanor, he wasn’t uncomfortable in his current role, either.

Perhaps it was what they both needed. Step out of their worn-thin roles for awhile.

“What do you want me to do, Sam?” _Please tell me how to make this okay. I need to make this okay. I need_ us _to be okay._

“I wanna spend time with you,” Sam said softly and Dean didn’t want to make a joke out of it but it was like one of those ‘do not touch’ signs they put up in museums. You couldn’t just _not_. 

“In the middle of the night?”

There wasn’t a visible reaction. Sam was serious when he said, “Yeah.”

“Okay.” His voice shouldn’t be this hoarse. There wasn’t any reason for it. “So, what d’you wanna do? Watch a movie?”

Sam was already shaking his head before Dean had finished the question. “No. I thought we could just … talk.” 

Any other day, Dean would have found it funny how shy Sam sounded. Today, the realization that it was uncertainty, not shyness, that carried in Sam’s tone, as if Sam wasn’t sure Dean would even tolerate him, hit Dean right in the stomach and made it turn.

He forced a grin. “Sam wants to talk? There’s a surprise.”

The fake smile turned into a real one when Sam actually laughed a little. It was weak but it was progress.

Dean cleared his throat. “You wanna talk, talk.”

Sam’s expression changed and maybe his mind had, too, because he stayed quiet, only looked at Dean for a full minute. It was bordering on weird when he slowly shook his head and then let it sink to Dean’s knees, eyes closed.

Sam was a line of heat against Dean’s side and even though his ass was falling asleep he sure as hell wasn’t going to move.

He boldly lifted his right hand and tangled his fingers in Sam’s hair. It was a familiar gesture, one that had always had somewhat of a grounding effect on both of them and it wasn’t failing now. 

Sam exhaled, tension seeping out of his shoulders.

They might fall asleep like this and wake up all over each other in the morning. They might migrate to opposite sides of the bed. Sam might leave in the middle of the night.

Dean was willing to take things as they came.


End file.
